


Light Touches

by a_q



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Aftercare, Cake, F/M, Feathers & Featherplay, Feeding, Femdom, Frottage, Genderswap, Light Bondage, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Rule 63, Sensation Play, Smoking, Tea, girl!Charles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 17:44:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_q/pseuds/a_q
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lottie loved to reward, not to punish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light Touches

**Author's Note:**

> Written for anon kink meme prompt [girl!Charles & femdom](http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/8700.html?thread=20648956#t20648956).

The fork was made of Sterling silver, the dessert bowl Waterford crystal. Erik knew what was in it. It was charlotte cake, with raspberry jam, custard and whipped cream.   
Lottie had a mean sense of humor. 

She held the fork steady, watching him with that amused, indulgent look that Erik loathed. That look stripped him from all arguments, that every word out of his mouth would be treated as adorable puppy antics. She moved the fork closer to his lips but he kept his mouth shut. She frowned, cocking her head. 

“Hm?”

He didn't have to eat it. He could say no.   
Lottie loved to reward, not to punish, and her rewards were worth striving for. 

She was warm in his lap, legs straddled over his thighs, her skirt pulled taut over her hips. She had opened her shirt and he could see the lace of her bra. The strap had dug a red line on her shoulder. He loved to kiss her there. 

Maybe she would let him do that, maybe not.   
This was a rigged game. There was no strategy for him, no end game, no upper hand. Lottie set the board, chose the pieces, made up the rules. He simply had to allow himself to lose to her. 

It was difficult and frustrating, he had only managed to brush the edges of that strand of freedom. But she didn't give up on him. 

He opened his mouth and she dipped the fork, the piece of cake tumbling in his mouth. The sweetness of the cream was disgusting, and he swallowed fast to get rid of it. She broke another piece and ate it herself, licking the fork for emphasis. She wouldn't give him anything she wasn't ready to eat herself. 

“What do we say?”

She put the bowl and the fork in the nightstand and leaned closer, resting her hand on the headboard, her shirt pulling open with the movement, the light fabric shaping to the curve of her waist. He could smell her perfume, the powdery floral scent. L'Air du Temps. Erik tore his eyes away from her chest and glanced up. 

“Thank you. Miss.” 

“There's my good boy,” she said, ever the gracious winner. “Would you like a treat?” 

Erik nodded and reached to kiss her, the ropes tightening in his wrists. She held her lips together, offering only a peck but Erik wanted more, so the kiss turned to odd, clumsy attempt. It amused her, to make him fumble. She straightened, pulling out of his reach. He leaned back against the headboard. Kissing Lottie always did things to him, and not for the first time tonight, he hoped she would've let him undress. 

She smiled and touched his forehead, like feeling for a fever, stroking her thumb over his brow until he relaxed. She took her hand away and reached to take a bag from the nightstand. Erik had been aware of its existence for a while. There was some metal item inside, but he couldn't say what it was. 

“Few years ago, I stood behind a woman in a grocery store line,” Lottie said, holding the bag like it hardly even mattered. “Ordinary woman, secretary in some law firm. She bought a pack of smokes.” 

She opened the bag absentmindedly, tipping it so the metal slithered out. It was a chain, thick and heavy-looking, spilling over her small palm. He saw the clamp as it fell over, dangling in the air. It looked intricate, and heavy. His skin turned to goose bumps. Erik tried to stay calm, not to squirm in excitement. She hadn't veered far with pain, and when Erik had asked for it persistently, she had yellow lighted. She had said that pain was white noise, bland and all-consuming. It gave nothing to her, and then she could just as well play alone like she had done this far. 

Erik didn't want that.   
But sometimes... Sometimes he wished.

“Minds tend to wander when people stand in lines. And this woman's mind was full of designs, truly amazing objects. Pieces of art, in fact,” she continued, starting to unbutton his shirt. “But the designs were only ideas, she had no intention to made them reality. She held on to this pointless social norm that it was wrong to even think about such things.”

Erik listened, watching her fingers move around the chain. She held the chain between her hands, showing him the whole length of it before draping the chain around her neck, the tips hanging close to her breasts. 

“I love to nurture talents.” She pulled his shirt open. “You give a right girl a box of tools, you'll be surprised what you get. But you know that, don't you?” She leaned to kiss a trail over his collarbone, the tip of the metal brushing against his chest. He gasped, the anticipation making his skin tingle. 

She leaned to trace her tongue over his left nipple, closing her lips around it and sucking deep. She dug her fingers in the muscle, like she wanted to reach inside to touch his heart. The pain was smooth, edgeless, the pleasure right at its heels. He wanted it to go on, but she straightened back up. 

“She's been busy with her art, but I told her that I had a new pet, that I wanted to give you something special. She made this especially for you. One of a kind item. I think you will like it.”

She pressed the clamp and it snapped open with a faint click. Erik watched her place the clamp against his skin. She hesitated a moment before she let go, the clamp snapping shut. The metal was exquisite, a burst of sensation on his skin and for a second that was all he could feel. 

She closed her hand around the chain and pulled. 

The pressure intensified, the pain a straight line from his nipple to his cock. He closed his eyes, letting the feeling sink in. She turned her attention to his right side, sucking softly, the sensation imbalance with the burn on the left side. He closed his hands to a fist, tensing his muscles to lean on the ropes to get more of an ache. 

Lottie moved, the chain getting slack as she grabbed his jaw, fingers pushing in his cheek. He opened his eyes. 

“Remember, it's my prerogative to change her mind,” she said quietly. “And I will exercise that right, don't you doubt that. I might like to give you a bubble bath instead of this. Strawberry scented bath oil, scrub you until you are squeaky clean. Would you like that better?”

He blinked rapidly, a desperate plea. Bubbles were worst than cake. 

“Miss. No, Miss, please.”

She tapped his cheek. 

“Play nice then.” 

He nodded. 

She took the chain, sliding it from her neck and snapping the clamp in place with a quick snap. The pain leveled, and he felt instantly better. Lighter. 

Lottie leaned to kiss him. The chain moved, warming with his skin, the metal tingling in his fingertips. He could move the clamps himself, it was a simple trick. Then he thought of strawberry bubbles. He forced himself to push away the feel of metal, focusing on her soft lips instead. 

Lottie laughed quietly against his mouth. “Good boy.” 

She straightened and pulled the chain, the clamps closing in tighter. He wanted to tell her that this wasn't enough, he could take so much more but she knew that. 

Of course she knew. This was her game. 

Lottie reached for the nightstand again, pulling a feather from a wooden box. It was her play box, he didn't know what was in it. She held the feather so that he could see it, turning it to show the play of color on its surface. The feather was long, tightly shaped. 

“I think you want to feel more,” she said and tapped the tip of the feather against her lip, like she was pondering something complicated. “I'm feeling generous tonight.” 

She moved the feather in quick, delicate strokes along his ribcage, the curve of bone, dipping into a swirl at the end and then back toward his side. He could barely feel the texture of the feather, only the strange heat crawling up and down. It had to tickle, but his body couldn't decipher it, the pain pushing the sensation askew. He shivered, his stretched arms shaking, the movement causing the metal chain slide on his chest, the pull jolting him back to his skin. 

She leaned her palm against his abdomen and Erik felt his chest differently, every inhale framed with her touch and the metal chain. She stopped, the feather poised over the nipple. Erik stared at the tip, enthralled. She smiled, cocking her head again.

“Hm?” 

“Please, miss. Please!”

She flicked the feather across his nipple with one hand, and dug her short nails in his side with the another. Erik gasped for air, the mixed sensation confusing. He tried to follow her fingers, the sharp scrape, the soft feather but he lost track of it, the touches scattered in every direction, like she was touching him everywhere at once. He blinked, the ceiling swimming in his eyes. He felt light, disoriented.

He heard it more than felt it when Lottie undid his belt. She moved the feather, drawing lazy circles around his navel and the pleasure shoot up along his spine, pounding in his skull. She shifted, her weight settling in different way against him. Her underwear was silk. She pressed against him, sliding back and forth in slow, deliberate moves. It was an agony, too little and far too much for him to take. 

She kissed him, tight and deep until flecks of light danced in his vision. He knew her hand moved, though he had no sensation of it, nothing beyond her soft mouth and heavy weight, coiling around the pain. There was a faint click and he struggled, unable to control himself. The metal slithered down his chest and the blood rushed back, bouncing with the beat of his heart. His vision fluxed, the pain changing forms, digging deeper with sharp claws and he could do nothing but howl under her. 

He didn't realize he was crying until he felt her hand capture the trickle that run down to his temple, brushing it away. "There, there." 

Her words soothed, the pain like a blanket over him and for a short moment, he felt perfectly calm, perfectly happy. 

***

Erik stripped the bed with quick moves. He never could stay still afterwards, he had to do something. He felt awake, energetic. He stuffed the sheet into a pillow case and glanced at Lottie. 

She sat in the armchair, smoking. She had tugged the hem of her slip over her knees. It was too cold to keep the window open. She looked up like he had said that out loud. She smiled, only a fraction. 

"Would you make me some tea? Milk, please. No sugar."

“Sure.” He gathered the laundry and took with him to downstairs. The house was quiet. He went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. He had seen her make tea enough times to know the general idea how she liked it. He let the tea seep strong, added a splash of milk and carried it back upstairs to her. 

She took the mug and nodded in thanks. Erik nudged the window closed, sitting on the sill. It was hard to stay put, but he tried.

"You didn't like this, did you? It went too far."

"No, no. It's fine. Really.” 

“Don't do that. Hey. Talk to me.” 

She crushed the cigarette in the ashtray.

“I liked it, more than I thought I would. Much more. And...I don't know. I didn't expect that. I just want to think about it on my own, alright?”

She looked angry, like she was about to cry and Erik wanted to pull her in his arms but she didn't like to be touched after, not until she was ready for it. 

“You liked it, I liked it. We had a great time together. That's the whole point, isn't it?”

“Yes, but you don't know how alluring your mind is,” she said, turning the mug between her hands. “What kind of temptation it is when you are open like that to...consume you. That scares me.” 

“I trust you. You wouldn't do that.”

“But I could.”

“You won't,” Erik repeated, crossing his arms. “I know you wouldn't.” 

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, I suppose,” she said and stood up. “Go have your run. I'll drink my tea and go to bed.”

“No, we need to talk about this.”

“Tomorrow, I promise.” She kissed his cheek. “I promise.”


End file.
